The Ram Rebellion(29)

Mary Ellen smiled. "Flo, regrets are a part of life and we can't undo the past, however much we'd like to. You did your best. You have most of your family, J.D., your health, and I even hear that Willie Ray speaks well of your sheep project. The past is the past. Leave it there and move forward. I know you've done your best, and so do you. You just have to keep going."





Flo had gotten herself under control by now. "I know, Mary Ellen, I really do. Things aren't as bad as they could be. I'll be okay. You go minister to someone who needs it more than I do. Temporary weakness. I can overcome it."





"I know, Flo. You're a strong, vital woman with years ahead of you. How am I going to get good wool yarn for Simon's socks if you don't raise those Merino sheep? I want real knitting yarn, not the tiny, fine stuff they make here. Let me know when you have a few skeins ready. I need it. His socks are wearing out."





Mary Ellen began to move away. "Oh, Flo, if anyone has an extra can of coffee, let them know I'm in the market for it, will you?"





It was so good to speak her own language and be understood. Resorting to gestures and mime could be very wearing. Anna Sprug was very happy to have her sister, brother-in-law, and their children with her in this strange place. Now she could just talk, and not have to act out her words.





"These people, they are very rich, aren't they?" Ilsa commented.





"Not only are they very rich, they are so rich that they are foolish with their wealth. Did you see how much meat Flo thought we needed? I liked the `corn bread' well enough, but that `chili' . . . what was that stuff? Too much meat, too much something else. I'm in for another night of listening to Johan groaning about his stomach every two minutes, just wait and see. Your Wilhelm, he will be the same."





"Do you eat like that all the time, here? I thought the food at the camp wasn't so bad, although there was still a lot of meat. And, I'm still not sure it's safe to drink so much water. I'd really rather have some thin soup for the children to drink. I know the Americans say the water is safe, but it makes me nervous to drink so much of it." Ilsa really didn't want to complain, but she did have some concerns.





"We will have thin soup tomorrow. I used that wonderful `crock pot' to start some. I think Flo said that if you set it on `lo' it could cook all night and be ready in the morning. We will see." Anna seemed a bit triumphant, to have succeeded at such a basic task. "There is only a small piece of bacon and a few vegetables in it, with some salt and thyme. I hope Flo doesn't notice it. She uses too much of everything. That `spice rack' of hers has stuff I've never heard of. She really ought to be saving it, not using it every day."





"Why do you suppose she has so many of these `crock pots,' Anna?" Ilsa asked. "How could she and J.D. need so much food? There are only two of them."





"Flo said something about `Christmas presents' from her daughters and I think she said something about them not paying attention to her interests. She seemed unhappy about this."





Anna seemed a bit confused about "Christmas presents." Ilsa certainly was.





"I don't think she had ever used them. All but one were still in boxes. Don't misunderstand me, Ilsa. Life is very strange here, but it is also very good. Flo is a generous, kindhearted woman. Her J.D. is a good man. Flo is very insistent that we are not servants here. She says we are partners.





"If we are to be real partners, then we must help them. Flo knows nothing of bargaining and has no idea how to feed so many people. All Americans eat so much rich food. And, they all have so many things. Have you ever seen so many clothes? And they're all so soft!"





"The clothes are soft, Anna, but I don't feel very proper wearing those `jeans.' They are so tight and so immodest. And, they make everyone look like a hired worker. I don't like that very much."





"Don't worry, Ilsa. Flo just doesn't understand. We are not young girls, to enjoy showing ourselves so. We just need to go slow and get used to this. It is very hard, sometimes. Still, we have bread for the morning. We have those wonderful double ovens and we have the `crock pots.'





"Flo does not wake up well, unless she has her coffee. We will make her some, and she will be so busy enjoying it that she won't notice the soup. I'll make bread to bake and then show you the rest of the house. Just wait until you see the basement, Ilsa. There's a room there, with nothing but shelf after shelf of what Flo calls old junk. There are containers that mice can't get into. `Canning jars,' Flo calls them. They have metal lids. And there are `coffee cans' that have another kind of lid. It's amazing that Flo doesn't understand the value of these things.